


The Night of August 15th, 1839

by magigorical



Category: Amnesia: The Dark Descent
Genre: Implied/Referenced Torture, Introspection, M/M, Self-Indulgent, Sharing a Bed, only a little bit though, this is mostly just Alexander having Emotions (ft. a bitty of shippy vibes)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:01:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27602483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magigorical/pseuds/magigorical
Summary: After Daniel breaks down during one of their rituals, Alexander offers his company for the night.
Relationships: Alexander of Brennenburg/Daniel
Comments: 4
Kudos: 21





	The Night of August 15th, 1839

Alexander had been unsure of what to expect when he had first penned his letter to Daniel Folke.

After all, when one had been unrightfully banished for centuries, one had the chance to meet quite the repertoire of remarkable characters. There had been Heinrich Agrippa, a scholarly gentleman and talkative companion, but much too easily swayed by his traitorous pupil. Johann Weyer had been a much more bold specimen, incredibly intelligent and eager to learn, with a natural curiosity that unfortunately had turned him selfish. Wilhelm von Gerich had been an honourable soldier, despite his tainted past, though it was his lack of discretion that left him rotting in the wine cellar. 

It rather seemed Alexander had a penchant for inadequate colleagues. Would this Daniel Folke of Mayfair fare any better?

The answer, he was surprised to find, seemed to be a resounding yes.

Daniel Folke was a fine young gentleman. He had greeted Alexander with the etiquette of nobility, and in turn Alexander received him with a warmth that almost flustered his guest. In the early hours of the next morning Daniel brought to him his satchel, the Orb wrapped in cloth and tucked away safely inside, and they took tea in the parlor and discussed the artifact in great length. Daniel was inquisitive, but not at all unintelligent, and he absorbed the baron’s every word of the supernatural relic. A few days later they had begun their first ritual and Alexander was entirely pleased with Daniel’s strong work ethic, typical of his profession. Even when the ritual failed, and Alexander realized that they must work more swiftly than he assumed, Daniel stood at the ready with a knife in his calloused hands, and he brought it upon the prisoner’s flesh with impressive precision. It had sickened him at first —Alexander could see the horrified disgust wracking the man’s body— but he was compliant. He did not argue. He did not go investigating matters better left alone. He did not need to know of the true nature of Alexander’s sulking, silent servants, nor the invisible creatures that dwelled in the waters of Brennenberg. He did not ask and Alexander did not tell.

Yes, Daniel was diligent and acquiescent, but he was so terribly afflicted by night terrors. Every dawn Alexander would have to rouse Daniel from the confines of his own imagination, the young man screaming and thrashing as if someone were beating him, and he would jolt from his slumber and stare at the baron with eyes glassy and bloodshot. There were times he found an empty bottle of laudanum on Daniel’s nightstand, and on those days he would be slow and sluggish and ask meekly for Alexander to repeat himself, if it was not too much trouble, for he had been unfocused and was terribly sorry about the fact. The bags beneath his eyes had been dark since he arrived, but they had only worsened with each passing day and Alexander feared that Daniel may collapse atop the prisoners from sheer exhaustion.

And when he was alert he was feverish, obediently splintering bone on the wooden wheel and whipping deep welts into muscle and forcing Damascus rose tonic down throats screamed raw. He muttered to himself as he worked, brows knit and mouth downturned, and his subdued madness would frighten the prisoners as much as the intimidating instruments that surrounded them. It was on this very night, one August 15th, that Daniel seemed to snap completely. He and Alexander had fastened the murderer’s half-dressed form to the table, a bag tied over his head and a light blue paint swirled on his chest. He had gripped in his trembling hands a curved dagger, and he sliced along the paint in a frenzied fashion and repeated to himself “paint the man, cut the lines”, his voice slowly rising in volume, and he hushed the unfortunate victim as his breath stilled. Daniel’s own breath was heavy, laboured, and Alexander coaxed the knife from his hand and gently suggested that he have one of the servant’s draw him a bath.

This was all to say nothing of the branding left upon him by the Shadow. It was surely the cause of his night terrors and passionate madness in the first place. Regrettably, nothing could be done against the eldritch guardian that trailed him. It would catch up to him in the end.

But to quell the night terrors for tonight, to possibly restore some amount of sanity to the young man’s shattered mind? Yes, that was something viable, and so Alexander found himself outside of Daniel’s bedroom, lightly rapping his knuckles against the door. There was a muffled call to wait a moment, along with a hurried slamming of drawers. Alexander was not one for needless worrying, but he could feel his heartbeat quicken with each passing second. Daniel was his last hope for returning home. What if his suggestion were to frighten him off? In his absence, would the Shadow slaughter him as it did Daniel’s colleagues? Or would he live on, with the possibility of retrieving the orb from Daniel’s cold, dead hands? The idea unsettled him. All too quickly he had come to care for this young man; and though he was aware of the sacrifices he would have to make, he did not wish him any unnecessary harm.

His train of thought was interrupted by the door creaking open. Daniel was clad in only a nightshirt, his hair still damp from his bath and traces of quill ink smudged on his pale, trembling hands. He gave Alexander a polite smile, though it did not reach his eyes. It rarely did.

“Good evening, Alexander,” He said, with forced repose. “What brings you here at this hour?”

“I’m concerned for your well-being, Daniel,” Alexander stated simply, ignoring the persistent fluttering in his breast. “You’ve been… unwell, these past few days.”

Daniel chuckled nervously. “Thank you for your concern, but I assure you I’m fine.”

“You’ve not been sleeping well, and quite frankly, your behaviour today was entirely unlike you.”

“I just need a good night’s rest, that’s all.”

“Indeed. That’s why I have a proposal for you, my friend.”

Daniel was caught off-guard. “A... proposal?”

“Yes.” Alexander inhaled deeply. There was no going back now. “If it would provide you comfort, I am willing to sleep in your bedroom tonight.”

Daniel’s eyes widened, his cheeks dusted with pink.

“In the same bed?”

“Yes,” Alexander said, amusion easing his nerves. Daniel was intelligent, but his common sense always seemed to be somewhat lacking. “Unless one of us plans to sleep at your desk?”

Daniel’s mouth moved, but no words came, and Alexander considered giving him a dose of the Damascus rose tonic in his pocket. Then he finally spoke, in a most flustered tone.

“I suppose a bit of company would help.”

Daniel opened the door wider, inviting Alexander in, and the baron’s eyes gazed curiously over the guest quarters. The room was quite tidy, in fact, it barely looked lived-in at all. The only evidence that the Englishman had taken residence there was a journal that lay open on the desk, the ink of its written words catching the light of the candle beside it, and the half-emptied bottle of laudanum standing beside it. Daniel hurried to stow away both items in the top drawer, fumbling all the while, and Alexander politely turned and made his way to the bedroom. It was similarly bare, though darker, as it was illuminated only by a candle on the left nightstand. He doffed his jacket and draped it over the back of a wooden chair, placing his leather boots neatly by its legs. He realized that he had not brought a nightshirt with him, but Daniel appeared by his side with one folded in his hands.

“I didn’t see you bring in a change of clothes,” He said, almost bashful in tone. “You may borrow this, if you wish.”

Alexander took the shirt. “Thank you, Daniel.”

“You’re welcome.” Daniel gave a brief nod, slowly backing out of the room. “I’ll let you get dressed, then.”

The door closed and Alexander undressed, his shirt and trousers joining his jacket on the chair, and slipped the shirt over his head. It was of a light, comfortable material, and the sizing wasn’t terribly off from his own nightclothes. There was something almost risqué about wearing an article of Daniel’s, something that was almost shameful, and he felt a twinge of guilt as he thought of his lover back home. What kind of lover was he to don an outsider’s clothing, especially one so intimate as a nightshirt? He shook his head, as if it would rid him of the thoughts. It was a favour, a show of gratitude from a troubled young man. There was nothing more than what Alexander gleaned from it. He was only a sinner if he thought of himself as one. And besides, he humoured as he buttoned up the front, he could always call for a servant to deliver his own nightshirt.

“You may come back in now,” he called.

Daniel entered with his head lowered, stepping cautiously, as if sudden movement might scare Alexander away.

“Are you sure that you’re... okay with this?”

“I made the offer, did I not?” Alexander smiled, though his nerves were beginning to creep up on him again. God’s sake, how was this the most stressful evening he had in decades? “Forgive me if I’m being too untoward. You can request to sleep alone.”

“No, no.” Daniel shook his head, perking up. “It’s been a lonely few nights, if I’m being honest.”

“You have someone at home, then?” Alexander questioned, pulling back the emerald duvet. The young man had never mentioned a lover before.

“My younger sister, Hazel.” His gaze turned soft, remorseful. “I must write to her soon.”

“I will have stationary brought up in the morning.” He tucked his legs beneath the sheets, examined Daniel. His expression was one that he himself had worn many times, thinking of what he had so foolishly left behind. “You care for her greatly, I assume.”

“Of course. I had to.” Daniel joined him on the bed, wringing his hands with the same distant stare on his face, though there was a twinge of something else there now, something bitter. “We had very little companionship growing up.”

He sighed, turning to the baron. A warm smile graced his sharp features. “It’s a pleasure to have met you, Alexander.”

Alexander had to admit, he was taken aback. It was rare that he felt quite so drawn to another person; even at home, where he was not burdened with keeping rumours of immortality or desecration at bay, he always preferred keeping to himself. His lover had become quite accustomed to a life of secrecy, laughing and teasing him about how funny it was for him to be so hard-hearted, so mysterious, so cold to even his own family. That still was nothing compared to his life on Earth; it was difficult to be close to the species that had a penchant for betraying him. But this one Daniel of Mayfair was different. Nothing about him seemed ingenuine. Nothing was a mask to be presented to the world, nothing was locked away for his own protection. He was nothing like Alexander and that was something that he realized that he was grateful for. Honesty, even more so than loyalty, was a virtue he desperately needed now, when he was so close to reuniting with his love and his home.

It would hurt terribly to leave Daniel behind.

“The pleasure is all mine.”

Daniel’s eyes flickered briefly, with an emotion Alexander could not identify, but he brought himself beneath the bedcovers with no further comment. Alexander followed suit, turning his back to him. There was enough room to accommodate the two of them without forcing them to touch, but thoughts of the orb’s violent guardian gnawed at him and he desperately needed to feel as though he was sleeping alone. So he brought himself as far as he could to his side of the bed and watched shadows dance upon the wall, for Daniel had not yet blown out the candle.

“Forgive me for keeping the candle burning,” Daniel said, a nervous edge in his voice. “I have a certain… aversion to the dark.”

“It is no trouble,” Alexander replied, and another twinge of guilt struck him.

“Goodnight, Alexander.” Daniel whispered.

The bed shifted and creaked as he made himself comfortable, then stilled as he presumably drifted off.

Alexander sighed.

His guilt had not been brought on by earlier worries of infidelity, which admittedly still lingered, and he told himself once more that it was not unfaithful to share a bed with another; he was nothing more than a sleep aid to the Englishman, a living drop of laudanum to ease a troubled soul to sleep. No, what weighed on him most now was Daniel’s inevitable fate. When Alexander returned home, he would have no choice but to sacrifice Daniel to the Shadow. There were no written accounts on what such a thing entailed, of course, but there were stories and legends, and though the details of the guardian’s preferred method of torture varied, there was always one detail that persisted: all those caught by the Shadow would be trapped in an eternity of darkness. A fate most fitting for a sworn enemy, not for an apprentice. Not for what he could perhaps even call a friend.

Alexander turned to Daniel, a tad shocked to find him already asleep and, even more so, that he was turned towards him in kind. He froze for a moment, then slowly brushed a strand of brown hair away from Daniel’s face, tucking it behind his ear. He prayed that Daniel was truly asleep as he gently pulled him into his arms and, with a heavy heart, kissed him atop of his head.

It was the very least he could do to comfort the lamb before sending it to the lion's den.

“Goodnight, Daniel.”

**Author's Note:**

> Alexander may be a massive prick, but I've always found his relationship with Daniel interesting. There's a lot of manipulation on his part, but I genuinely believe he cared about Daniel and regretted that he would have to sacrifice him to the Shadow. Which, of course, means I had to write about it. I might add onto this in the future, but I just wanted to post this self-indulgent warm-up first.
> 
> Fun fact: Daniel's name was originally going to be Folke! So I decided to use it as his surname here. I think it flows quite nicely.


End file.
